Promises Promises
by Crunkn8r82
Summary: Tony coming back from Mexico... his thoughts, actions, and regrets as he tries to explain himself to Ziva. Set after the Season 8 finale. ONE SHOT.


**A/N:** _My attempt at filling in the gap when Tony was in Mexico, and Ziva was busy becoming a citizen. I felt it was a little remiss on the writer's part not to have addressed this. _

...

He should have gone home and showered at least. Gone home and shaved and made himself look like a human being again. But he moved through the terminal, glad he hadn't traveled with any luggage save for the small bag in his hand that held a change of clothes overnight. Still, thirty six hours in Mexico and not a chance to do anything put follow Alejandro Rivera around- missing one of the biggest moments of Ziva's life- he was... bitter and angry. He hailed a cab, which was easy to do at this hour. It was well past one in the morning and the only people around now were passengers stranded at the airport for various reasons, and TSA employees hoping to make a little extra cash with the graveyard shift.

He called out his address to the driver and sunk into the back seat, staring out the window as the smell of jet fuel dissipated. The Beltway was a smooth ride until he noticed how close he was to her exit. Before he could rationalize this feeling in the pit of his stomach away, he told the cabbie her address. It wasn't until they had pulled up in front of building that he realized what a stupid idea this was. There was no way she was home, she would be out celebrating, as she should, toasting to her new life, not only as a new American but as a new agent and all that encompassed.

He wasn't sure how long they'd be idling at the curb but had to have been a while. "Hey man, your dime," the cab driver said over his shoulder.

He threw a few bills at him and got out, bag in tow. He should go home. He could call her in the morning. Apologize to her then. She would understand, he was following orders. He swallowed hard, trying to will his body to accept what his mind was telling him. He shoved his hand into his pocket, fingering the key that she'd given him not too long ago, the same key that sat nestled among his own. Just in case. And before he could stop himself, he was at the door to her building, the grad student that lived on the first floor was headed straight for him. Judging by the way she was dressed, she was going anywhere but to a study group. "Hey Tony!" she greeted him as she pulled open the door to the foyer.

She was blonde, pretty, and although, no one could tell right now, way too smart for his games. He smiled back. "I'm not sure if Ziva's home. She looked absolutely drop dead gorgeous earlier today." His body tightened at the thought. He'd wanted to be there for her, stand beside her as she spoke her oath. He wanted to hug her and tell her how proud he was of her. But he wasn't. there were no words to express the depth of disappointment in his broken promise to her. Before he knew it, he was bidding the young woman goodbye and taking the stairs two at a time.

Time stood still has he stared at her, standing in front of him, clad in a pink and white cotton nightgown that fell her to knees, a matching robe haphazardly thrown over her, and sig carefully encased in her right hand. "Tony?" she asked, her a tumble of curls over her shoulders as she her confused expression washed over him.

He knew better. He knew that line they had carefully drawn all those years ago, all too well. He'd danced around it, gone right up to it looked it square in the eye and backed away, but the way she looked right now, her hair, her eyes, that damned nightgown, he didn't care anymore.

He dropped his bag just inside the doorway and cupped her jaw with one hand as the other closed around the gun. He'd managed to put the weapon on her side table as he pressed her up against the wall, his mouth crashing down on hers. Ziva's hands came up to fist some of his shirt pulling him closer and the smug satisfaction he felt at that moment fueled him further. His hands skimmed down her sides, her hips and to the back of her thighs as he hoisted her into his arms, and felt her legs wrap around his waist. Somewhere in the midst of their stellar make out session, he had managed to close her front door. He poured everything he felt into her mouth. The urgent flow of sadness and desperation at wanting her to know she was all he thought about. She moaned into him and tightened her arms around his neck, her fingers grabbing his hair. And finally when it felt as if an eternity had past, he felt her pull away slightly, her breathing ragged. "You want to slow down?"

If he wanted to be honest with himself: slowing down was the last thing on his mind. All he wanted to do was feel her in his arms and listen to her quickening breath. He kept his eyes closed, knowing that hif looked at her right then, she would see him for what he really was: a failure. He tensed for a moment. "Tony," she rasped.

He looked at her just then and the heat in her eyes softened immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ziva." "I wanted to be there for you. I promised." He rested his forehead against hers. She didn't fight him, she didn't insult him or throw his words back at him.

"You had orders."

"Screw the orders."

"Tony," she admonished quietly.

"Vance and his damned private agenda," he began and she stopped him by placing her hand over his mouth.

"You're here now. With a lot more gumption than I anticipated," she smiled. Slowly, she slid down his body taking his hand walking him further into her condo. She stopped behind the sofa and turned to him, slipping the jacket he wore of his shoulders. It felt as if all the energy he had, the adrenalin that had coursed through his veins not too long ago, ebbed away when the jacket hit the floor. She moved to the buttons on his shirt.

"What are you doing?" he asked fascinated by the concentration on her face.

"You need a shower if you think you're sleeping next to me tonight." Her hands stilled and she slowly caught his eyes before continuing to the last button. She then removed her robe and pulled him toward her bathroom. Pulling her back a moment, he kissed her again. Only this time, he was more careful, more deliberate, more delicate with his intention. She would have no doubts about its meaning. "Only if you help me wash my back."

The wicked glint in her eyes as unmistakable. "I promise."


End file.
